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D is in Peoria; a fact that kinda makes me giggle, and the house is too quiet. There is no dinner to cook, or chores to do, indeed the options that lay before me are numerous. Should I read or sew, watch a movie, put a little organization back in my work room or tackle the long list of things that need to be posted on Ebay? I could take myself to dinner, give myself a pedicure or a facial, but I honestly feel a little lost. D and I have never been so tied together that we could not function without the other, I’m not pining for him like the dog is (her world has come from together big time), but the house is too quite, and I haven’t the first idea how to remedy that...go figure.
For those of you interested Grandpa’s surgery went as planned, with the exception that they were unable to preform it lapriscopically. They did find a section of small intestine that was basically stuck to itself and freed it. Complications are still a big concern, but the docs seem optimistic ... thanks again for all the well wishes.
To say that I’m touched by everyone’s comments of support and defense on the last post just wouldn’t cover it. I thank you all very, very much. To say that I handled it wrong would also be somewhat lacking. I should have never aired it here, and given him/her the satisfaction knowing that their comments more than hit the mark. I’ve since had two good nights of sleep, am more in control of my feelings and able to respond accordingly. I have blocked both the email address and the url of the offender, and will do so on any additional communication that I might receive. While I welcome and encourage everyone’s opinion, even the ones I don’t agree with, personal attacks will not be tolerated. To borrow from Mild Child: if you want to act an ass, you’ll have to do so in your own space!
I wasn’t hiding in misery yesterday, instead it was one of those super busy days where nothing seems to get done. Days like that are always a mystery to me, but at least they go by quickly. We are on ‘high alert’ again today as the doctors have decided more surgery is required to resolve Grandpa’s bowel obstruction. They have also determined that he has a staph infection, but seem less concerned by that than the bowel problem. They think the obstruction is basically a ‘kink’ caused by the first surgery. Once again it will be lapriscopic surgery and as minimally invasive as possible. This should all take place some time this afternoon. We are being as hopeful as possible.
Though yesterday was busy, I did have some time in the morning, while the a/c guys were working in the attic, to make two sets of greeting cards, and set some things right in the house. We’ve back-slid terribly on the house cleaning lately and it was nice to correct some of that. Another guy is coming tomorrow to add insulation to the attic and then we should be able to put everything back together. D is out of town for training all week next week and there is much to do to get ready for that as well. A busy, busy weekend; still, I’m determined to sit down and read or sew for a few hours. Its therapy of the best kind for me, plus I’ve a few promises to keep in the sewing department.
Thanks to you all again for the kind words and support, sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you!
Blogging about my grandfather, and our other family traumas, presents certain difficulties. I share because I need to get it off my chest and because I know that my online friends are interested in what’s going on around me. At the same time I am leery of turning this into the ‘woe is me’ blog on the ‘all drama all the time’ channel. Not just for the sake of the blog but for the sake of my own sanity. I fear I present a non-feeling image of myself by following a ‘family’ post with nonsense about fabric or a new idea. I assure you that is not the case. I simply cannot dwell solely in sadness; I’m not sure I’d ever resurface.
I’m defending myself here because I received an email yesterday from someone who felt I was selfish for posting as I do. Selfish for being uncomfortable in the place where my aunt died, and grandmother was so ill. Selfish for sharing how I feel rather as well as my concern for my Grandfather. Who knows, maybe I am. Of course I’d prefer to believe that I’m a realist, and that I’m a strong, caring person. Sadly we are never able to see ourselves as others do ... what a different place the world would be if we could.
They are speaking around me in hushed tones with guarded words, as if I were ten again. But both my hearing and my comprehension have improved since childhood and I know what they are speaking of ...my grandfather. For no obvious reason he has deteriorated a little each day since the surgery and has now been returned to ICU. The word ‘age’ is bounced around often by the nurses. They now suspect a bowel obstruction and will let him neither eat nor drink ... he is miserable and angry. New information is difficult to get; the doctors are always busy elsewhere and the nurses are not enthusiastic about decoding the chart for us. We are allowed four visits of thirty minutes each day. To see him you must first wait in a tiny room packed with grieving people and screaming children for someone to come escort you through ICU. We schedule our visits with each other before going, there are more of us than there are allowable times during the day. It is a small hospital, he has been in the room my aunt was in, he is now next to the room his wife (my grandmother) was in. It is an uncomfortable place to be ... for him and for us. I feel ill and anxious when I’m there and guilty when I’m not. I cannot imagine how much more difficult it must be for my uncle and cousin. I do not know how I will get through this again - be it now or in a few years. I do know that there is not choice but to go forward. If ‘back’ were an option I’d have left long ago.
Update: Rox, with a little arm twisting, did finally speak up and asked for this little bag.
I carved out a little time this weekend to work on a bag that Rox challenged me to while I was mid-mom-move. This little wrist bag was the bane of my existence for several hours - a side effect of me working without a pattern. It should have been a fairly simple feat, but my brain must have been vacationing somewhere because I made many simple mistakes that resulted in picked stitches and cut seams. There are some parts of it I like - the shape and the tucks on the bottom, and some that I don’t - the way the top gaps when it is closed. It is a good start for what Rox had in mind but not, I think, quite right. So I am dubbing this the first item for the soon to be ‘free for all’ section of this blog, but giving Rox first dibs since she issued the challenge to begin with. But, if she passes and you like it, speak up, its yours!
Some info on the bag. It is 100% cotton with medium weight interfacing, the body is about 12” wide by 7 ½ tall.
I recently participated in Shim & Sons’ Vintage Button Swap, and now that the packages between myself and my swap partner, Diane at Woollie Wanderings, have arrived and been properly cooed over I can share the spoils with you. First, Diane’s package to me, which was filled with all kinds of buttony goodness:
Ok, those aren’t my buttons. It is actually a photo of a photo greeting card that Diane made, and sent to me with a lovely note inside. Perfect, for a button swap, dontcha think?
These are my buttons and there was also yellow print fabric and embroidery thread in a variety of lovely blues. As well as a big skein of crewel silk, also beautifully blue.
To top it all off there were tags and cards, also made by Diane, for me to use in future swaps. Thanks so much Diane! It has been a pleasure ‘chatting’ with you and reading about spring in Scotland on your blog. I can’t wait to find just the right project for all the wonderful goodies you sent.
Here is what I sent Diane:
Buttons in a button bag (I may have to explore the button treatment as a texture a little further, I really like it) and a set of button note cards (also worth further exploration).
When I packed it up there I added a few other odd-n-ends, like soaps, chocolates, mints and tea. It was really a fun, quick, swap to participate in and a perfect way to reduce the button stash. Thanks again to both Diane and Shim & Sons for a great swap!
In other crafting news I’ve created something of problem by releasing the ‘Aruba’ money for home improvement. I’m sure your first response was ‘what does that have to do with crafting?’. Nothing actually, but having sudden access to money that has been off limits has fueled my desire for new fabric and new patterns. Not helping is this bunny made by Moonstitches. She was kind enough to share where she found the pattern but sadly it is not a book I’m likely to ever get my hands on in the states (as if I could navigate Amazon Japan). But, oh how I WANT that bunny. To ease this burning need I allowed myself a small splurge on some fabric I’ve been mooning after for quite sometime and a pattern that I mentioned liking not too long ago. Surprisingly I have a specific plan for everything I ordered; all bags of one sort or another, so hopefully I’ll avoid hoarding it away in the dreaded stash.
Speaking of the stash, I think I’ve finally come up with a way to cut it down significantly, and satisfy my creative streak at the same time. I often make things without plans for a recipient or personal use. Sometimes, for me, it is more about the act of being creative than what is created. Originally I had thought to sell this accumulation of made objects on Etsy, but having tried and failed with a few objects I suspect it is much like having a popular blog. Either you do or you don’t - there is no in between. So I have decided to give these things away here. In the very near future I hope to have a page of homeless items available to anyone not too shy to speak up. I’ll set some simple ground rules, like one item per person per month, and accept (but not require) donations for shipping. I’m very excited by this idea and I think it will be very liberating for me. I can make at will without fear that something will never be used and know that eventually everything will go to the person that loves it most. We’ll both be smiling! Oh how I love this idea, perhaps I’m not so shallow after all - heh.
We’ve had no internet service at home over that last few days and I’ve come to realize just how attached to it I really am. I may be more attached to the internet than television. Which proves I really need to get out more often. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my online friends for anything, and I’m loath to give up surfing ... but I really should spend more time under the sky than the roof. Not that I actually will, mind you, but it doesn’t hurt to remind myself how things should be.
It seems that I missed out on the exercise gene and got two for sitting. I am often amazed at how physiologically different my brother and I are - no, not that way, mom and I had that talk long ago. I am referring to his need for exercise, his natural attraction to low fat / highly nutritious foods, and ability to pass food by if he’s not hungry. I suffer from none of this – none. I don’t think I’ve ever seen exercise as anything but a chore, I have no qualms about eating fried food or red meat And pass up food? Bite your tongue!
I would not choose a hike over a book, or the beach over a movie ... well maybe if the hike or the beach were on Hawaii. In general ‘here and now’ options my entertainment choices are rather shallow. For example, D & I play an online game. He gets very involved in the construction of his characters, their back stories and power sets. He spends time on their builds, worries over having enough ‘money’ to buy the right enhancement and fusses with costumes. Me, I just want to shoot stuff. That’s it.
I’m not trying to be off color in the face of current events, I’m just trying to express how base I can be. I don’t want my books to be from of Oprah’s Booklist, or need a life lesson in my movies. Violent and gory are fine as long as they suit the story. Violent and gory just because the special effects guy had a spare 55 gallon drum of fake blood - not so much.
It is true that when someone asks what I’m reading and I show them a cover graced with dragons and wizards and they roll their eyes a bit before saying ‘oh’, I feel guilty for being so shallow. Mostly though I’m unapologetic. I’ve read some classics, enjoy poetry and have a penchant for old movies where actors actually had to act. But these would not be my first choice. Nope, I’m shallow and I’m ok with that, because in the end what we do for ourselves counts almost as much as what we do for others. So, what do you do for yourself?
When I answered the phone I thought Grandpa sounded upset so I put him through to the son he wanted without any small talk. Sure enough, he was upset, but not for any reason I might have guessed. He was at the doctor’s office and was going to be admitted for an emergency appendectomy surgery to take place within the hour. The man is 87 for crissakes, I’d have thought that thing would have shriveled up and fallen off by itself a long time ago!
The surgery was speedy, and they were able to remove it laparoscopically, which is much less invasive. The plan was to put him in ICU once he was out of surgery but Grandpa is one tough old bird, and was resting comfortably in a regular room by the time I went to bed last night. The surgeon’s only concern seems to be Pop’s age; a concern he mentioned to my father as if he’d discovered that bit of information in there along side the appendix. Pneumonia and infection are the biggest concerns.
At lunch today I drove out to see him. He seems a little tired, and is pretty adamant that he’s NOT going to get up and walk no matter what the doc says. Basically he’s as cantankerous as ever, possibly more so because he didn’t sleep last night and hasn’t had a beer today. His response when the doctor asked him how much he drank: “As much as I want”. Grandpa is not one for holding anything back, and he is not the quaint, church going type grandfather. He’s been a soldier, a factory worker and a farmer; he is rough stock and makes no apologies for it. At the same time he’d do anything for anyone. He mows 10-12 yards a week for the elderly women in his neighborhood, and is constantly puttering about fixing something for someone. No doubt when he is allowed to go home he’ll be showered by casseroles and cute little old ladies fluttering about. Outwardly he’ll hate that, but those that know him know he’ll be eating it up - heh.
This weekend there was garage cleaning, laundry washing, painting, pet door installation*, truck washing & cleaning out and a few other unplanned but quick projects. There was also rain - yippee! I did not get the sink installed because some dummy (me) threw out the drain tail piece with the old sink. We also didn’t get any house cleaning done. Instead we made it worse, much, much worse. Sometime this week an air conditioning company will be coming by to install an additional ‘return’ in our system in an attempt to balance the air circulation (it gets very hot on the ‘office’ room side of the house). To achieve this they need to get into the attic through a hole in the closet of D’s office. A closet that until yesterday was packed to bursting with two wire shelving units loaded down with books, cd’s, art supplies and other various and assorted stuff. That stuff is now spread in an even layer all over the house and the shelving units are in pieces in the living room (they had to be dismantled to be removed from the closet). In addition to this layer of clutter my cleaning of the garage produced another, this one of my mom’s things that she left for me to try to sell on Ebay. Since we’ve got the closet empty we plan on painting it and while we have access to the attic D is going to run a phone line and an ethernet cable to my sewing room**. So until at least next weekend the house looks like a junk shop exploded. Who wants to bet that the couple we’ve been trying to get together with for dinner at the house will call this week?
There will be big home improvement in the coming weeks as we have decided to spend the money we’ve been saving to go to Aruba on the house instead. I’m both disappointed and excited by this. Most of the disappointment is bourne of surprise; until D said “I don’t think I can justify spending that money on the trip”, it had never occurred to me that we might not be going. But the prospect of finally remodeling the master bath, painting the exterior of the house and installing cabinets in the garage is quickly dissolving that disappointment. Of course, being as bad as I am about finishing what I start, our ability to actually accomplish these things remains somewhat questionable.
* I actually found a ‘Hefty Kat’ Cat Door. I can’t say exactly why but this cracks me up every time I think about it. Oh, and I’m seriously considering sending them a pic of Lenny coming through the door as he outweighs their current cover model by about 2 lbs.
** We did away with guest rooms some years back and use those two bedrooms as offices/craft rooms.
The past several weeks, and weekends, were filled with my mom’s move. Now that its done I need to get back into the ‘big project / little project’ routine. It’s time for a big project but I’m going to have to settle for a medium one and a whole lot of house cleaning. D did pretty well with it while I was gone but ‘guy clean’ and ‘girl clean’ are very different things. I’ve decided that my medium project will be a small corner of the laundry room.
Many moons ago I painted the kitchen walls and three quarters of the laundry room. The undone portion of the laundry room is an odd little niche that sits between the closet and the garage door was once home to a plastic utility sink. The old sink was disgusting so when I pulled it out to paint walls it found its way to the curb rather than back into the laundry room. This week, while on a supply run for work, I stopped at a plumbing warehouse and picked up a replacement sink. It is plastic, and unattractive but unlike the old one it is clean.
Before I can install it, (a very simple job) I must first address the unfinished paint and the cat door to the garage. Having so many cats makes for multiple litter boxes so my solution was to build a cage in the garage to house the boxes and cut a door in the wall under the sink. It works like a charm and the odor and ‘sand’ stay in the garage without concern that the cats will escape or get into something dangerous in the garage. The one draw back to my diy door is that it has no flap, meaning we regularly air condition the garage. I could, as I originally intended, sew a fabric flap but the cats we have now are not the ones we had when I first built it, they are umm slightly more Rubenesque ... Lenny & Leona in particular. As usual, I figure since I’m committed to tackling it I should tackle it right.
I’m thinking I’ll need two cheap cat doors, one for the laundry room wall and one for the garage and a short piece of duct work for the ‘tunnel’ between the two. Slap on a little paint, assemble and install the sink and voila! Yeah, it won’t really go that way, but I can dream can’t I? Sadly the project still won’t be completely finished because I’ve yet to do any trim in the kitchen or laundry room or the two folding louvered (argh!!!) doors for the closet in the laundry. Greenie says she’s coming to visit for a week in August ... I’m thinking it’ll be a working vacation - har.
In addition to this project, and the house cleaning, the tree guy is coming back (man is he a FLAKE) to finish what he started, something must be done with the accumulation of mom’s stuff in the garage, the inside of my truck must be cleaned and I don’t mean just tossing the trash, and there really should be at least one home cooked - no boxes or cans involved - dinner. Hey, this is just proof that I’m not always a pessimist - har.
Some months ago I heard a rumor that an old friend of mine was getting married, though nothing was said directly to me. A month or so after that a ‘save the date’ card for the same wedding showed up on a coworker’s desk. My knee-jerk reaction was to be a little miffed by this, but in reality I was more relived than anything to not be expected to attend a wedding for someone I no longer see or keep in touch with. An invite would have felt more like a gift request than anything else.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I get a call from the betrothed friend who says he is calling to invite me to the 7/7/07* wedding. Oh, and by the way, could I make the cake as the wedding gift? I’m sure that I should be flattered by the request, instead I feel a little used. Come to think of it that’s the whole reason our friendship cooled ... he’s a class A user and I decided I was no longer available for such treatment. Of course I responded to his question with a ‘yes’; partially because I was too slow to come up with a good lie, and partially because I’m too chicken to say ‘no’ and leave it at that.
*just silly IMHO
Yesterday was a very nice day, but it didn’t happen until I got home. It was grey outside almost all day but it just couldn’t seem to rain. On the way home there was a smattering of rain, enough to make my filthy truck filthier, but the closer I got to the house the more sincere the rain became. Less than a mile from home it was a regular downpour but at the house ... nothing. I was disappointed, the yard is getting desperate and I’m on the verge of losing two trees. Hand watering has nothing on a good rain. My disappointed turned to excitement when I went to the mailbox and found a squishy package from Kim.
Inside, and ‘s’ magnet, an ‘ath’ (for Athens) sticker, and the most positively perfect pair of mitts ever! Seriously. They are very short in the wrist and I feel a little like a pugilist when I wear them, but that shortness is perfect for our climate. In a colder climate I’m sure you would want to cover your wrist but most of the time its only my hands (or toes) that are cold so I roll the tops of all the mitts my generous knitting friends have made for me. Not so with these. Positively perfect, I tell you. Kim, many, many thanks for thinking of me, you are just too kind.
And the day improved from there. It started to rain in earnest. Not a heavy, deluge, but a slow soft, on and off, rain. Just the sort we needed. This morning the birdbaths were full naturally for the first time in many months. And as I drove to work everything seemed a tiny bit greener, and that really made me smile.
With the exception of laundry, car washing, and cracking coconuts* it was a ‘do nothing’ sort of weekend. Mostly because I was still whooped from my cross country Cracker Barrel tour (they have RV parking, bless their hairy little hides). I had a hair appointment Saturday, and treated myself to a pedicure while I was there, *sigh* oh, how I do love a pedicure. Then I met D for lunch at a nearby restaurant. Nothing fancy, just a little catching up. For some reason we are more likely to have a real conversation if we are away from the distractions (tv, computer, sewing machine) at home. Sunday afternoon we went to a movie. I did a little sewing for the Vintage Button Swap, and read my book, with the Shirley Temple marathon running in the background - yeah, I’m a sap. A very relaxing, and I think, well deserved weekend.
I worked Friday but did little more than organize all the things I’m behind on into ‘now’ and ‘later’ piles and handle a few pressing items. So today it’s back to the grind, and the normal every day. But I know that beneath my super socks and athletic shoes I have perfect, melon colored toenails and that makes everything just peachy.
*A tree guy came while I was gone and trimmed the palms. He removed to fronds but left all the coconuts ... hundreds of pounds of coconuts. I break them open with a hatchet, spilling their watery contents which makes them much lighter for carrying to the curb.
Like pebbles in a child’s collection we were vastly different. The woman or perhaps girl in front of me was wrapped in a faux down jacket with faux fur trim. She hunched over her own lap, hair and hood concealing her face and concentrated on the iPod in her hands. She took a phone call, though so quietly she seemed not to speak at all and she slept with her head resting on the backpack that shared the seat next to her. When we were delivered to the airport she departed without a backward glance or ‘thank-you’ to the driver. She was a stranger, and wanted it that way.
The second woman was a late arrival, according to our driver, no reservation just a promise that she’d meet the bus in time for its departure. He had motioned her to hurry when she stood, chatting on her phone, in front of the bus office and she had smiled and waved back, in no particular hurry. When she boarded she greeted me with a smile and a nod, phone still pressed to her ear. She spoke in normal, unabashed tones and ordered ten pounds of chocolate, ten pounds ham, eight croissants, four sweet rolls, two loaves of Challah ... would that be enough for the thirteen guests she was having for Easter? Perhaps just eight pounds of chocolate, she amended. She said chocolate with a thick, beautiful European accent ... schocolaht. Her name was Katarina.
The final bus passenger, other than myself, was an elderly woman we picked up in Kingdom City. My first impression of her was that she was nervous, she fiddled with her purse, her scarf, her sweater and twisted almost violently in her seat to wave frantically good-bye to the woman who had delivered her to the McDonald’s parking lot. She was dressed in brown polyester slacks, a pink and brown striped sweater, a pink and brown silk scarf and the orthopedic sandals women her age seem to prefer. None of the pinks and browns were quite the right color to match the other pinks and browns and though carefully dressed she was jarringly uncoordinated.
I offered her a smile at her arrival, and the driver gave her a bottle of water after asking three times if she wanted one. She was baffled by the question and he finally answered it for her by placing the small bottle in her hands and closing the sliding door. I dropped my eyes back to my book lest I encourage conversation. I was tired, more tired that I’ve been in a long time. Moreover I was exhausted with people and had been looking forward to my book and the anonymous two hours of bus travel to the airport and three hour flight home that followed. For a while I had just that but it did not take the elderly lady long to grow bored with the contents of her purse and seek out a target for talk.
Seated directly across the aisle from her made me the first choice and she asked if I’d gotten on in Columbia, which I had. Within a few questions we determined that not only were we on the same bus, but we would also be sharing the same flight to Fort Myers, I to go home and she to visit her daughter. She chatted on a wide variety of subjects: grandchildren, Florida, a little hotel she and her husband had run in the 60’s and 70’s, Missouri, moving, and her kid’s encouraging her to fly this trip rather than drive as she always had. When the topic turned to her late husband it also turned to baseball and then to softball. He had been active in both, well into his 60’s, along with bowling, horseshoes and golf. I offered the only comment I could think of on the subject, which was that my grandfather is in the Missouri Softball Hall of Fame (2004). As it turns out, so too is her husband, Bert (1998). It is certain that they played against each other, and very likely that they knew each other. Both were pitchers.
She prattled on through the whole trip, sometimes it seemed as much to herself as to me, but I nodded and smiled and offered a comment now and then. When we reached the airport I took over and guided her through the process of getting her boarding pass and working our way through security. Briefly, I picked up another charge, a ninety year old woman in line with us who was befuddled over the TSA’s liquid rules and the removal of her shoes. We made it through and then sat for a while, resting, while I put my shoes back on and reorganized my bag. Marge, my companion, filling me in all the while on how the airport had been the last time she had flown, some forty years ago. The other woman, whose name I never learned, moved on to her gate and Marge and I to ours where we sat and people watched.
My new friend cracked me up more than once with her observations of passers by, particularly the men. She’d elbow me and declare, none too quietly, “There’s a cute one! If only I were twenty years younger!” She was enamored with a middle aged cop moving around the gate area on a Segway and we discussed both the machine and his cute, err posterior. She decided, too late, that we eat dinner and specified that it be at a table and not in her lap. We were the last two people on the plane and they literally closed the door on our heels, but we by-gawd ate and she was happy.
We were not seated together and I must admit that I was pleased with the arrangement. Marge was entertaining company but from the very beginning company was not what I wanted, and the promise of a few quiet hours with my book was very enticing. I did, however, worry for her when the flight became quite rough. She had undoubtedly stuck up conversation with the two women she was seated with and I hoped that they were offering encouraging words to her.
I lost her when we disembarked, but saw her again well ahead of me in the terminal looking back over her shoulder but walking safely with her daughter and son-in-law. I caught up with them in baggage claim, and was introduced to her family and soundly thanked by all involved for ferrying her through safely. Like any good Boy Scout I was gracious, but chafing somewhat to be on my way. After all I was finally home, with the prospect of my own bed and pillow looming in the near future. My bag came up first and I wished them all a pleasant visit before escaping into the darkness outside.
I was tired, wrung out, ready to be home but happy, both with myself and with the circumstances. It occurred to me as I rode home with D, discussing the difficulties of my trip, that had I not answered her first question I’d have missed it and missed out on meeting her. And in doing so I would have ignored one of the highlights of my trip.